Drop
by winterxsunset
Summary: "You were broken before," He said, bluntly. "How long until you, uh, snap?" Danger and drugs is all she wants when she meets the Joker.
1. Chapter 1

**Drop by winterxsunset**

 _Summary:_

" _You were broken before," He said, bluntly. "How long until you, uh,_ _ **snap**_ _?" JokerxOC_

 **Chapter One**

She never thought she'd be up this high. Wasn't that always the aim? To climb and crawl until you're floating, head into space like a let-go balloon, stars shattering around you… Was this what she'd been dreaming of, all along? She shook her head, thoughtfully… what on earth was she thinking about? All this talk in her head, never stopping to process. She pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes until her eye make-up smudged. Black shadows on her skin.

How did she even get here? As she swung her legs, back and forth, she realised she could see the whole of Gotham from outside the penthouse. It was like she was stuck in a snow-globe, or some distant postcard; she felt a cold detachment from the city she grew up in, the one she'd dreamed of escaping as a child. Yet, here she was. After all this time, Gotham never ceased to amaze nor disappoint.

She could feel the clear glass windows stalking her from behind, knowing full well he was watching from somewhere. Why hadn't he come for her yet? What was he waiting for? Was that a skylight she could see, not too far from the station? It was strange how articulate everything was from where she sat, how everything but the people beneath her seemed significant. Did anything matter to them anymore? Where was their dignity? Relying on that skylight, the sunset…oh god that sunset…burning burgundy, orange, how hazy it all was…was that fire in the sky? Was this the light they talked about?

"No," She uttered, through gritted teeth, "No, no, no, no, no… I am not dying."

Taking a deep breath, she collected her thoughts and got to her feet. Swaying her legs back and forth, the heels of her black boots clicking together. Why did she have to wear black boots on a rooftop? Earlier that day, before she knew where it would end, she recalled the time she spent getting ready, in all its trivial glory. Pulling on her lacey tights, the stretchy black mini-skirt, throwing the red hoodie over a glittery camisole… they'd made plans. He'd told her to dress well. Had he meant to be romantic?

She could feel the nerves collecting in her stomach as she looked down on Gotham city. For a moment, she was fearful, squinting her eyes until she fully realised just how hard the sidewalk would be if she slipped and fell. The fear passed after a moment, changing to intrigue, as she dreamily looked upon the tiny people and their tinier things… things never mattered in the end though, did they?

It was happening again, the way it always did. The fear dissipating into nothing, nightmares becoming her wildest dreams, trading terror for ecstasy. She could feel her entire body becoming warm as she closed her eyes momentarily, leaning her head back. The wind was getting stronger but she welcomed the breeze. It spun her tangled, dark hair around her face, the hood of her sweater blowing upwards. Slowly, she opened her eyes and clambered to her feet.

Before she could walk away from the edge and slide open the glass doors, a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her arm above her head. She shrieked, suddenly disoriented.

"Not yeeeet," He said, "I told you to wait for me, didn't I?" He twisted her arm further though she barely felt pain these days, but this didn't stop her throwing a lousy kick in his direction. He laughed and let go of her arm.

"I've been waiting." She growled, taking small steps away from him.

Every step back she took, he took one forward, until she realised she was right at the edge of the roof. A gasp left her lips. Car horns could be heard from the streets of the city. The glare of the sun had settled and darkness fell atop the sunset strips. She knew she had to keep herself steady, clear her head of what was cluttered inside, but it wasn't easy. Every two minutes she would lose herself to the glitter in her lashes, his face losing focus as her blood got hotter, wondering what her veins were doing, the size of her pupils, inside of her mouth, outside lips, missing kisses…

"I've just been, uh, watching." He replied, his raspy, broken voice messing with her head again.

"Watching me from the shadows," She said, wondering why she was whispering. She heard a laugh erupt from his chest. His hands grabbed her cheeks tightly, pulling her mouth in opposite directions. She thought she might be smiling.

"Darrrling," He said, sternly, "I am the shadows." She knew how tough his hands were, that her face would bruise by morning, but she felt nothing. It was normal. This happened to her a lot. At some point in the night she'd usually go numb, trip and fall, think nothing of it until she woke up, knees bloody, hands in the dirt.

"And… what am I?" She asked. It wasn't what she had wanted to say. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. No, she didn't want to, but she knew that she should. If she was in her right mind again, the place in her past where she had been a good girl, she never would have gotten here. But despite it all - the doom, the danger, the lacking judgement – there was no place she would rather be.

"Youuuu," He drawled, taking her by the waist and turning her towards the sky, "are the sun."

His arms tightened around her, one still on her waist as the other grabbed her chin, forcing her to look out into the city. The sunset had gotten deeper and darker, but there was a coldness to it she hadn't felt before, the purple turning blue. She leant her head back into his shoulder, hot breath on her kneck. Was this it? Is this how it ended? How many people had asked themselves that before falling from the sky?

"The sun is starting to set," He added, leaning into her closer, "and sooon, well, the uh, the staaars will come out, ya know?"

He moved her from side to side, as though they were dancing. His movements were making her dizzy, her ears muffled as the sounds of the city seemed to fade out, stuck in some bubble.

"Jay," She murmured, feeling him tense up. He said nothing, though his hand slowly trailed towards her neck.

"J…a…y…" She refrained, as his fingers stabbed her windpipe.

"Sssh, ssh, ssh…" He said, keeping her close to his body, "Don't sound so sad about it, sweet-cheeks." She felt her eyelids get heavier, fluttering up and down, light and dark, sun and stars, him and her…

"After alllll," He said, squeezing her tightly, " _tomorrow…is another day_!"

He laughed when he let go of her.

.

.

 **6 Months Ago**

"Do you have your papers? Your clothes all packed? Okay honey, now open wide, I know it's no fun… good, you've swallowed your pills… oh, don't forget your prescription!"

Sage knew from the beginning this day would come. She didn't think it would happen so soon. Her excitement towards leaving Arkham's rehabilitation centre hadn't ceased the whole time she was there. _Three_ _months_ , she thought, morbidly. Ninety days of her life she would never get back. Her summer plans stunted by suicide-watches and everyday drug tests. Despite the dull interior and decaying facilities, she'd grown to love her tiny, box-shaped room. Her single bed, the lone lamp on the desk, the white walls she covered in fairy-lights and polaroid pictures… memories became dreams she couldn't bring herself to believe.

It had occurred to her that she might not be ready – what she hadn't thought of was that she might not _want_ to go. Standing in front of Helen, the nurse that had showed her a soft spot from the very start, Sage felt tears well up in her eyes which she desperately tried to keep back.

"Wonderful," Helen murmured, in her comforting, voice. She reminded Sage of one of the dinner ladies at her high school growing up, the kind that would give her an extra scoop of ice-cream when they did dessert, or asked about her parents. She was Sage's only hope in a place where people never seemed to improve. Thankfully, she had recovered. At least, she thought she had.

"All set," Sage murmured, forcing a smile. She gestured to the two suitcases at her feet and swung her backpack strap so it sat securely on her shoulder.

"I'll miss you sweetheart," Helen said softly, placing a hand on Sage's arm kindly.

"I'll miss you too. You've been far too good to me, Helen." Sage murmured, honestly.

"You deserve to be happy, Sage." Helen said, placing her other hand on Sage's shoulder. She looked Sage in the eye seriously as she spoke.

"Now, the only drugs you should be taking are the ones in your prescription kit. Apart from that, I better not hear you've winded up back in here after some student bender." Sage laughed at Helen's sceptical perspective on student life, noticing how she clutched the gold cross around her neck.

"I'm doing my masters this year, Helen. Will be all work and no play – and no _benders_." Sage assured her. Helen gave a nod but there was a hint of worry in her wise blue eyes.

"Just be safe sweetie, whatever you do." She said, "I hope you haven't had it too hard here."

"It's only the well-being centre," Sage shrugged, "It's not like I've been in Arkham _Asylum_."

"Though it is owned by Arkham," Helen added, "But you don't have to mention that in job interviews, honey." Sage let out a laugh which almost turned to tears until an attendant approached the two of them.

"Miss. Henley?" The male attendant asked, dressed all in white. Sage nodded as Helen's hand fell to her cross.

"There's a cab outside waiting for you. He says in five minutes he'll turn the metre on." Sage nodded as the attendant filed out. Helen let out a sigh as Sage picked up her bags.

"Your parents aren't meeting you?" Helen questioned, sadly. "It's important your family come together at a time like this."

"You sound like my therapist," Sage responded. Helen chuckled.

"Well, have a safe trip home. Are you going back to California?" Helen asked. Sage shook her head. Helen knew more about her than most of the specialists in this place but, given her age, occasionally got her facts mixed up. Although, Sage couldn't help but feel a little bitter. She wished she was going back to California – the sun, the sea, the relatively decent crime-rate, at least compared to _Gotham_ …

"I only went there for college, remember?" Sage said, "I, uh, I grew up in Gotham. In the Narrows."

"Oh, of course!" Helen said. "Well, have a…safe, _safe_ journey."

"Thank you, Helen," Sage grinned. She gave the older woman a tight hug before picking up her belongings and nodding towards the exit sign. "Wish me luck!"

The cab driver didn't say a word to her after asking for her address. The rehabilitation centre was directly connected to the asylum, so it was safe to assume that he probably thought she was a criminal on probation or something of the sorts. Living in the Narrows didn't exactly help – it was, after all, the capital of criminal activity.

"Keep the change," Sage smiled, decanting her cases. The driver simply nodded before driving off as soon as he could.

 _With good reason,_ Sage thought, gloomily. Looking around, the place was even more derelict than she remembered. There was garbage everywhere, despite the huge trash cans surrounding the street. Pieces of rubble and slate taken off roof-tops covered the ground, along with cigarette stubs and the occasional needle. Sage shuddered.

"Home sweet home," She mumbled, resting her cases at her feet for a moment. She had lived in the Narrows growing up, in a double-bedroom apartment with her Aunt Cara, though it was small enough to be a studio. The apartment bloc looked much more worn than she remembered, and she could hear various music genres blasting from different windows. Cats meowing loudly in the distance.

Pulling her cases with all her strength, she dragged her things into the building and searched for the creaking elevator that used to work when she was younger. Before she could look around, her phone suddenly went off, causing her to gasp slightly given her grim surroundings.

"H-Hello?" She asked, not checking the caller ID.

"Sage! Ah, me dear, did you get home safely? So sorry I couldn't pick you up, are you alright?" Aunt Cara's raspy, Southern accent soothed her soul. Sage leant her ear against the phone and pulled her bags towards the elevator, jamming her fingers into the buttons impatiently.

"Yeah, I did, and it's fine. I can't tell you how happy I am to be staying in your apartment, Aunt Cara. Thank you so much, it's exactly what I need right now." Sage murmured, though felt a pang of frustration once realising the elevator wasn't working.

"Well the doctors said you need stability so I thought you'd be better off in your own bedroom." Cara murmured. Sage could practically hear her smiling.

"But honestly it's…incredible. I can't believe I have my own place all to myself." Sage added, contemplating dragging her things up the three flights of stairs. She reached in her pocket to check for her key.

"You deserve it, sweetie. I mean, you did so well in California, after all. Despite what happened over summer Sagey, you have a bright future. I want you to be comfortable while you're back in Gotham, even if it is just for the year. You're a good girl, sugar-pie." Sage felt the guilt ripple through her. _Oh, Aunt Cara_ , she thought, _if only that was true._ Her mind flickered back to the start of summer, long before the fall that had settled in now. Three months ago, when she'd come back to Gotham. Clothes too big for her, her scholarship money all used up, Aunt Cara meeting her at the train station, sobbing...

"I…have to go now, Auntie. I hope you're having a good time visiting Texas." Sage said, hoping her voice wasn't trembling. Aunt Cara tutted sympathetically.

"Aw thank you honey, you get settled in and I'll see you next week." She said, happily, "Call me whenever, alright? Or message me on the, uh, the _Facebook_ or whatever it's called." Sage laughed.

"Of course," Sage said, "See ya soon."

"Bye, honey!"

Putting her phone in her pocket, Sage sat down on the rusty stairs, feeling overwhelmed already. She hadn't been in the open world for longer than twenty minutes and she already craved the white walls of her rehab room. The mundane easiness of her old routine. She felt a headache suddenly come on and wished she had something stronger than her prescription. It was a strange paradox though, how they weened her off one drug only to give her another…

Sage rested her head in her hands, wondering why the smallest dilemma of getting her cases upstairs was so much more stressful than it should be. That was, until, footsteps echoed through the entry-way, and a deep, jagged voice threw a question in her direction.

"You, uhh, need some _heeelp_ there, **doll-face**?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: to clarify, this is currently set during Batman Begins, but it will become clear when the change in times occur. There will be some Killing Joke references later as well. This whole story is building up towards the intro of chapter one and will continue after that as well. My Joker might be a bit out of character because he hasn't yet transitioned fully into the Joker. Also, since both characters are still in their development, there won't be a purely Joker/Sage based chapter until a bit later, nor will their relationship be immediately romantic and I will try my best to avoid clichés. Thank you so much for my first review, keep letting me know what you guys think. :D**

 **This chapter is quite light but I promise to give deeper insight into why Sage went to rehab to begin with. I want to keep her story authentic so I will give a trigger warning, as drug abuse and trauma will be explored at some point, though I will mention this in the author's note.**

 **Also, if any reviewer can spot a clue in the first chapter as to who Sage might become, I'll be super impressed but won't be able to confirm it ;)**

 **(P.S. Age-wise, Sage and Pamela are about to become Grad students so they're in their early twenties. Joker, Harvey, Bruce, Rachel and Crane will be in their late twenties/early thirties.)**

 **Chapter Two**

Pamela Isely was used to looking good. In all modesty, she could not recall a time when she disliked the person she saw in the mirror. She couldn't help enjoying the finer things, such as decadent make-up and designer clothes. She had already spent a large portion of her trust-fund to fashion her small apartment into an art-deco inspired loft, while her minimal wardrobe contained only the sleekest, most fashionable items.

So, when the salon assistant swung her chair sideways to reveal her new hair colour, Pam wanted to throw scissors at him.

"It…It's _orange_ ," Pam had stammered, in an accusatory tone. The hairdresser's eyes grew wide as Pam's face contorted from disappointment to _rage_. Her beautiful, chocolate brown hair had transitioned into a solid, brassy colour.

"It's red," The young man replied, uncertainly. "I think…"

"You think?!" Pam had shrieked, causing everyone in the salon to look her way.

"A-All due respect M-Miss. Isely but you asked us to use as many, um, _natural_ products as possible. It made the colour transition a lot more…um…difficult."

"Oh, so now I'm to blame?!" Pam responded, icily. "Forget it. I could have done a better job myself!"

After that, she had stormed out the salon furiously, grabbing her faux fur coat and red handbag as deliberately as she could.

As she walked down the side-walk, she constantly got a glimpse of her new-do through the same store windows she once walked past with pride. So unused to things not going her way, she felt as though she had been sabotaged. When she got to the end of the street, she slumped down on a set of steps right next to a coffee-shop and threw her head in her hands.

"God, will anything in my life ever go the way I want it to go?" She seethed, feeling her eyes fill with tears of frustration.

It had been a hard few weeks for Pamela Isely. She had hoped a trip to the salon would save her soul, as it often did. A change – that was what she needed, something to get her spirits back up. After a huge, devastating break-up, she had decided to opt for a new look, something refreshing to make her feel good again.

She hadn't expected it to make her look as foolish on the outside as she felt on the inside.

"Everything is wrong, dammit." She muttered, staring down at her designer heels scornfully.

 _Everything is wrong_ , she thought to herself over and over. She might have been engaged by now. Hell, she _would_ have been engaged right now. They'd been so happy together and, for just one moment, the notoriously independent Pamela Isely had found someone to depend on – a _rising politician_ , of all people.

" _We're just not that perfect for each other, Pammy."_ She recalled every word, painfully _. "You're just a little young, you know? I'm going into politics. I need someone more serious."_

After everything they'd shared, that cut her deep. What were the chances of her, a _student_ , being with a man so mature and successful ever again? He'd been right to say she was young - hell, she'd only had her first legal drink last month – but that didn't make her some weak-kneed schoolgirl. Yet, despite telling her how beautiful she was, even after breaking her heart, he'd made her feel entirely insignificant.

Even now, months later, she couldn't help but dwell in her own self-pity.

That was, until, her phone began to ring.

"Hello?" Pam questioned, bluntly, lifting her head out of her hands.

" _Pam, is it that you? It's Sage. I have a new phone, sorry if it came up as unknown—"_

"Sage?!" Pam squealed, dragging herself off the dirty steps. "Sage Henley? Is that really you?"

" _Yes, it's really me, who else would it be?"_ Pam's mouth widened into a huge, red grin. " _Listen, I just got back and have absolutely no groceries. Fancy coming over and cooking your famous brunch?_ "

Pam rolled her eyes.

"You mean they never taught you how to cook in California? Or rehab?" Pam teased. She could hear Sage's weak laughter on the other end.

" _Okay, smartass. Maybe I just want to see you."_

"Yeah, or you're just _hungry_." Pam retorted. "Well, you called at the right time. I need your help with something too."

" _Oh yeah_?" Sage asked. " _Does it involve conning businessman into buying us drinks_?"

"That was one time, and we were only sixteen!" Pam laughed, recalling the memory fondly. "But no, this is important. It's something I can only trust you with. I'll pop by the grocery store and meet you in a few. Are you staying at your Aunt's?"

" _Yep. Like I never left_." Sage sighed, softly. Pam could sense something was off by her tone of voice, though she knew it would be better to talk in person. Just like Pam, Sage's summer had been anything but easy.

"Well, I better change first if I'm venturing into the Narrows," Pam said, inspecting her nails. "See you in an hour, Henley."

" _See ya then, Isely_."

Unpacking her belongings had only taken half an hour or so. Despite how heavy her cases were, it was strange how her whole life fitted into two cases and a backpack. Sage had gotten used to living in small, empty spaces after college and rehab. Even her Aunt's apartment, which had felt so much larger growing up, felt homogenous with every other place she'd lived. The only difference about this place was that, alongside the furniture and toiletries her Aunt had left, it was full of childhood memories. Some good, some bad.

Yet, despite being back home, Sage felt the same numbness she'd been feeling for months now. Surely being in her old bed-room, sat on the bedding she had as a teenager, would somehow fix everything? Isn't that what the doctors told her? _Familiarity equals stability, stability equals sanity…_

 _Thank god Pam is coming over_ , Sage thought. After all, what was more familiar than the childhood best-friend who always put a smile on her face?

As she waited for the doorbell to buzz, Sage laid down on her bed and looked up at the ceiling she thought she'd never see again. Yet, here she was, in the exact same position she assumed as a child. When she failed her chemistry homework at fourteen, she'd thrown herself onto her bed and looked up at this ceiling, thinking up as many curse words as she could to describe Mr. Andrews. When she was kicked off the cheerleading team for smoking, she'd stormed into this room and screamed into her pillows, blasting her music as loud as her small stereo could go.

Now, almost twenty-two, her feet reached the end of the bed as her hair splayed out against the pillows. Despite all of it – her Aunt being away, the time in rehab, all the things that put her into rehab – she could only think about one thing.

Her new neighbour.

" _You, uh, need some help there…_ _ **doll-face**_ _?" His voice was so deep. Sage wondered for a second what it might sound like if he sang…_

" _Um…me? Oh no, no, just gotta get these up to the second-floor. I really should have bought something with wheels…" Sage's voice trailed off once she actually saw him._

 _Only when she got up off the steps and looked directly at him did she catch a glimpse of his scars. She was taken aback for two reasons; first, the scars were like nothing she'd ever seen. She couldn't believe they were real, that someone in this world was forced to live with a carved out smile across their face. Secondly, the man wearing them was not the worst looking man in the world. In fact, Sage was more taken aback by his large brown eyes and golden blonde curls. He was much taller than Sage which intimidated her more, as she considered herself rather tall._

" _Just being polite." The man stated, coldly. "After allll, I live on the second floor, too."_

" _O-Oh," Sage stuttered, her cases resting at her feet, "I-Is that so? Well I guess you could, uh, grab the red one?"_

 _Living in the Narrows, Sage knew that there was a chance this stranger might run off with her stuff, despite her owning nothing of value. Although, it would have been incredibly awkward following him up the stairs, clearly unable to carry anything herself._

" _That, uh, elevator hasn't worked in aggges," The man stated, taking one of her cases and picking it up in both hands as though it was nothing. Sage's mouth opened in shock before she started laughing._

" _Sorry it's just…you made that look so easy," Sage chuckled, "Guess I have no upper-body strength." As she continued to laugh at her own misfortune, the man raised an eyebrow and smirked._

" _The name's Jac_ k _." The man said, suddenly, taking one hand from under the case and extending it to her, balancing the case under his other arm. Sage looked at his hand before meeting his eyes._

" _Sage." She said, smiling. His hands were rough and calloused, as though he'd spent hours hand-writing or something…_

" _Saay-gge." He said, as though he was tasting the name. "How's 'bout we get these bad boys to your room before my arms_ _ **snap off**_ _?" There was a richness to his voice which made Sage's stomach flutter until she saw him lick the edge of his scars._

" _Oh, um, yes! Of course. Sorry." Sage lifted her other, slightly smaller case and tried to clamber up the stairs as fast as she could._

" _You, um, lived here a while?" Sage asked, breathlessly, as they circled up the spiral staircase. Despite finding it hard to talk, she tried her hardest to make conversation. Having lived in an apartment most of her life, she knew how difficult it could be having neighbours dislike you._

"' _Bout… two weeks," Jack drawled out. Sage's arms began to ache immediately, having done barely any exercise while she'd been away. She felt a little self-conscious having him walk behind her, but tried not to think about it, focusing on the hike up the steps._

" _And you?" Jack asked. "How long have you been a, uh, huuumble resident of Gotham's worst real estate?" Sage chuckled at his bitter humour._

" _Lived here growing up," Sage gasped, catching her breath, "I just got back from college. California." When they made it up to the second floor, Sage dropped her case immediately as her breathing picked up. Thank God her apartment was the first one in the hall, she thought gratefully._

" _Cal-i-forniaaa," Jack said, placing her other case down. "You don't look very uh, sun-_ _ **kissed**_ _." Sage tried hard to slow her breathing as Jack looked at her closely, waiting for a response. She suddenly realised just how close he was to her, which made her wonder if her heart-rate was due to the physical exertion or this intriguing character who towered beside her._

" _This is me." Sage said, suddenly, gesturing to the door opposite them._

" _Look. At. Thisss. We're neighbours!" Jack exclaimed, smugly. Sage swallowed and gave a small smile, stretching her hand out to Jack._

" _Well, it was nice to meet you, Jack." Sage murmured, uncertainly, "I, uh, I have to make a phone-call. But thank you, I really appreciate all of your help."_

" _Mm-hmm," Jack mumbled, looking her up and down as though he wasn't satisfied. Sage began pulling her cases towards the door, expecting him to leave. When she got out her keys, he moved towards her._

" _You knooow," Jack said, making Sage look up at him, "You should come over. Yes, you should come over to_ my _place sometime. We'll, uhh, we'll have coffee! Or whiskey, ahaa, whatever's your, uhh,_ _ **poison**_ _…"_

 _Sage looked at him, speechless, watching him twitch nervously._

" _Okay," She said, nervously, "Well, I'm seeing a friend today… but maybe another time?" She wasn't sure how she felt about this idea, though she could tell he wasn't the kind of person she'd want to disappoint. Jack's mouth stretched out into a huge grin, causing his scars to look much more prominent across his face._

" _Ohhh, I'd_ _ **like**_ _that," Jack almost growled, "I really. Really. Would."_

When Sage heard knocking at the door for what must have been the second time, she hadn't realised she'd dozed off on her bed, thinking about Jack. Jumping up quickly, she moved towards the door as fast as she could.

"Pam, is that you?" She called out, loudly.

"Unless you're expecting someone more fabulous." Her velvety voice was unforgettable. Sage grinned and opened the door as a beautiful, perfumed figure threw herself into Sage's arms, ditching several bags on the floor with a thud.

"Oh, my darling! It has been too long! I haven't seen you since Christmas and so much has happened to both of us and oh! I've missed you, how I've missed you!" Pam hugged Sage as tightly as she could, kicking the door behind her. Sage choked out a laugh, trying to breathe.

"Pam, your hair!" Sage exclaimed, suddenly. Pam placed her manicured hands on Sage's shoulders and pulled away, sadly.

"Terrible, isn't it?" Pam asked. Sage twirled a lock around her finger.

"It's definitely interesting," Sage murmured, trying to act serious. Sage tried to keep back her laughter when suddenly, both girls erupted into fits of giggles.

"I mean, for a _carrot_." Sage murmured, chuckling to herself. Pam hit her arm playfully but laughed louder than Sage.

"Don't worry, sweetpea, don't worry. Not only did I bring every ingredient for French toast, but I also brought hair dye." Pam exclaimed, hopefully, turning towards the bags and taking them to the kitchen counter.

"Pamela Isely doing her hair at home? Someone alert the press!" Sage teased, helping her unpack the food.

"Oh no sweetheart, _you're_ the one who will be doing my hair. I still have some standards." Pam joked, flicking her light locks over her shoulder. Sage grinned.

"And in return you'll give me food?" Sage asked.

"Yes, Sage. Just like a dog." Sage threw a packet of salad in her direction with Pam managed to catch.

"Is your Aunt here?" Pam asked. Sage shook her head.

"She moved back to Texas," Sage explained.

"She didn't meet you from the centre?" Pam asked. Sage shook her head.

"It's hard for her, being in those places." Sage said. "It's fine though, she's coming over next week."

Pam nodded but gave her a sympathetic look. Sage knew Pam would have met her in a heart-beat if she'd asked, but she needed time to settle in, which Pam understood.

"Did you really just buy salad?" Sage asked, confused by all the bags of mixed leaves she was pulling out of the shopping bag.

"And eggs. And bread. You're lucky I even offered! Were you expecting caviar?" Pam teased. Sage shrugged.

"Well, you're healthier than me. Say, how's it going with Harvey? Must be hard cooking for someone who's not vegetarian?" Sage asked, putting the salad into the fridge. Pam stopped in her tracks, causing Sage to look concerned.

"Pam?" Sage asked. "What's wrong?"

"It's over." Pam stated, coldly. "Harvey and I. It's over. He… He moved out last month." Slowly, she picked up a loaf of bread and placed it in the bread bin, dropping the lid with a bang.

"I'm so sorry," Sage said, "For how long? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't allowed to see you, remember?" Pam asked, throwing her hands up in surrender. "And was I really about to tell my best friend over the phone? No. No, I can't talk about it without crying. You were having a hard time in that…that _place_. You didn't need bothering—"

Sage pulled Pam into another hug, squeezing her tightly.

"You can tell me anything, whenever you want." Sage said softly. "I'm always here for you. I'm sorry about Harvey, Pam. You're too good for him anyway." Pam stiffened slightly but eased into the hug, biting her lip to keep back the tears.

"He's seeing someone else now," Pam said, as Sage pulled away, clutching her hand. "Some plain Jane in the D.A.'s office. Called Rebecca, or Rachel…I don't know. Whatever."

"It's probably a career move," Sage said, bluntly, "I reckon he's using her to climb that law ladder."

"Me too!" Pam agreed, eagerly. "God, I've missed you. You always say what I'm thinking."

"Ah Pammy, I've missed you too." Sage smiled.

"How about you?" Pam asked, taking a deep breath. "Any luck in the men department?" Out of all the questions she could ask, Sage was not expecting her to ask that.

"Well, there was this cute bad-boy in rehab but… he had a boyfriend." Sage sighed. "Apart from that I just haven't thought about it."

"Really? There's no-one in California?" Pam asked, unpacking the final bits of food. Sage shook her head and leant against the counter.

"Nope, not after sophomore year." Sage stated. Pam let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank god. Well, I'm proud of you for not sleeping around with any more frat boys." Pam said, tapping her shoulder. Sage rolled her eyes.

"Danny wasn't a frat-boy! He was a football player…" Sage defended. Pam laughed.

"Politician, frat-boy, _footballer_ …doesn't matter. They're assholes." Pam stated, plainly. Sage shrugged.

"So, how about we crack open that bottle of dye?" Sage asked, lifting the cherry-red box of hair-dye, waving it at Pam.

"Let's get this party started!" Pam grinned. "I want to hear all about the crazy shit you got up to in rehab!" Sage laughed. Despite her jokes, Pam was the only person that treated Sage like a human being - not some broken object that nobody could fix. All in all, it was good to be home.

"And I want to hear all the things about Harvey that you didn't like," Sage teased, opening the box as Pam pulled up a chair.

Before they knew it, they were talking and laughing just like old times. As she got to work on Pam's hair, she wondered if Jack could hear their chatter and laughter through the walls.

In fact, she wondered about Jack in general.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: I'm giving an extra chapter a week early because I start my job this week and will be super busy, but will try to update as much as possible :)**

 **For those of you who haven't read the killing joke, Jeannie is the Joker's pregnant wife in the graphic novel and is referenced to in some of the Hush comics.**

 **Even though Harvey and Rachel are already dating in this fanfic, this story is set** **before** **the events of the Dark Knight, as Jack is not quite yet the Joker. This therefore takes place a few months before Jack's transformation. Sorry for any confusion!**

 **Oh and Jonathan Crane will make an appearance in this chapter too for all you scarecrow fans out there ;)**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter Three**

 _She could taste metal in her mouth before she realised it was blood. It never felt like this before. Sometimes she'd black out, or throw up, but she'd never been this disoriented. Her entire torso was slumped over something strong and circular; her body sat in a seating position as some sort of smoke clouded her vision. As she slowly fluttered her eyelids open, she could see cracks in what looked like glass. Looking closer, she realised it was her windshield._

 _Coughing until blood came up, Sage tried to focus her hazy vision on something specific. The door. That's right – she needed to open the door, somehow. It was hard, she was sure she'd sprained something in her arm, though she had no other choice. Painfully, she twisted her arm towards the door handle and pushed it with all her strength, falling backwards onto the hard, wet ground._

 _The window wipers went back and forth, washing away the rain, whilst Sage became drenched in what must have been a thunder-storm. Turning her body sideways, she screamed out in pain. She didn't need a doctor to tell her she'd broken at least one rib; she could feel it crack with every breath. Eyes wide, she realised she'd crashed into a tree. A strange feeling of relief washed over her, thankful she hadn't killed someone…_

 _Although, that was the plan after all, wasn't it?_

 _Perhaps not a stranger, or an innocent citizen, but when Sage got into her car that night, completely inebriated, she knew – or rather, she hoped – it would be the last time._

Her apartment was pitch-black when she awoke from her nightmare, covered in sweat. Breathing heavily, Sage ran her hands through her hair and shook her head sadly. Glancing at her alarm clock, she saw the numbers glare at her in red, reading four a.m.

 _God, if only it was just a dream_ , Sage thought bitterly. Turning the lamp on next to her bed, she slid out of bed and headed to the kitchen to pour herself some water.

It wasn't the first time she was forced to face what she did.

 _When you get those dreams, I want you to take one of these pills,_ _Miss. Henley_ , her doctor had said. _They are designed to combat PTSD – they should_ not _be used recreationally._

Sage opened her kitchen cabinet and took out the bottle that Helen had given her before she left. How easy it would be to just knock the whole damn thing back in one…

As she tipped one tablet into her palm, she downed it quickly and swallowed some water. Her hands shook as she slammed the glass back down. She looked at the bottle of pills for a long time. Even now, after everything, her life was ruled by chemicals. What she resented the most was that she couldn't control how much she took.

As she leant against the kitchen counter, Sage noticed the empty bottle of hair dye and smiled softy. Thank god for Pam, the only person who could ever make her laugh after what she'd been through. If Pam could get over a heart-wrenching break-up, then Sage could get through this, whatever _this_ was. She wished Pam could bottle up whatever motivation she had inside of her and give some to Sage. Somehow, Pam managed to bounce back from anything, no matter how dreadful it was.

Feeling her eyes get heavy, Sage decided to give sleeping another shot when, suddenly, she heard a man's voice seep through the walls, yelling at the top of his lungs.

 _Jack's voice._

Suddenly anxious, Sage stepped carefully towards the other side of the room, as Jack's voice got louder. She could not yet hear who he was yelling at, but it didn't sound good.

As Sage pressed her ear against the wall, she heard something else. It wasn't just Jack's voice – it was a woman's, too.

" _How can you keep that shit in here, Jack? This is where we live, dammit!"_

" _It's business, Jeannie! How else are we supposed to pay rent, huh? Ya think I want my life to revolve around money? Maybe you shoulda kept ya job at the strip-club if you're sooo concerned!"_

" _I think you enjoy the way you make that money, you piece of shit!"_

" _Oh yeaaa?"_ Jack's voice took on a sinister tone which made Sage shudder.

" _Yea,"_ The woman mustered, _"You're dangerous, Jack! You're starting to scare me!"_

" _Oh, so dramatic!"_ Jack seethed, laughing wildly.

" _I'm leaving! I'm getting out of this place and you can't stop me. You can't! Get out of my way, Jack!"_

Suddenly, Sage heard banging and clanking which caused her to wince until, finally, a door slammed shut. She could hear someone sobbing as they paced their way along the corridor.

When the footsteps on Sage's floor finally faded and headed downstairs, Sage meekly approached her door and opened it quietly. It was so quiet suddenly it made her sick, and she wondered whether it was a bad idea to go to Jack's room. But, out of instinctive curiosity, she had to see what was going on.

When she approached Jack's door, she breathed in nervously before knocking three times.

" _Oh, so you came back for more, eh sweet-cheeks?!"_

Sage heard Jack laugh cruelly before he opened the door. His expression, which read like utter rage, slowly morphed into confusion when he saw Sage stood before him, wearing an oversized shirt and shorts, no shoes on her feet.

"C…Can I help you, doll-face? Bit late for visitors, don't ya think?" Jack ran a hand through his messy, blonde curls, licking his scars nervously. Sage felt paralysed by uncertainty, unable to think for a moment.

"I, um," Sage tried not to look at his pale blue shirt, which was unbuttoned loosely, "I wanted to see if everything was okay. I heard a, uh, a woman. I heard yelling."

"Yeah, sorry about that, sweetheart," Jack drawled out, leaning against the door-frame lazily, "The old lady has a mouth on her, that's for sure. And not in a _good_ way…" He winked at Sage, attempting to laugh it off, but she remained glued to the spot, unconvinced.

"That was your…your _wife_?" Sage asked, incredulous. Jack burst out laughing at her shocked expression.

"That hard to believe?" He asked, darkly. Sage shook her head, guiltily.

"N-No! Just… look, I know I don't know you that well, but… I hope everything is okay. I just wanted to check, that's all. Is she okay?" Sage tried her hardest to sound earnest.

"She's gone," He said, "She'll be back, mind you. When she needs money. That's all she cares about these days. _Money_. God help her…" Sage sighed.

"Okay, well, I'm sorry for bothering you." She added, meekly. "Guess I'll go back to bed then, if it's all settled. Goodnight, Jack."

"Hey, hold it right there, sweet-heart," Jack said, deeply, grabbing Sage by the hand. Automatically, she withdrew. She managed to recall what his wife had been shouting. _You're dangerous Jack_ , she had screamed at him. _You're starting to scare me._ Not only that, but Sage didn't think his wife would appreciate him grabbing another girl's hand, or calling her _sweet-heart_.

"Don't worry, I don't _bite_ ," Jack grinned, watching Sage carefully. "Look, listen…why don't ya come in for that _coffee_ , hmm? I mean, I did wake you up after all. Seems only fair I should make you some, uh, breakfast, or something? What do ya say?" Sage felt his gaze burn into her. Unsure, she shook her head.

"That's very neighbourly of you, Jack, but it's fine," She insisted. "I wasn't sleeping anyway. Besides, I don't think your wife would be happy if you had another girl in your apartment—"

"My _wife_ will be hap-py when I _tell_ her to be happy," Jack stated, through gritted teeth. Sage swallowed, nervously. "Besides, she took a lot of her shit with her. She won't be back anytime soon. She's usually gone three days."

"Oh," Sage muttered, "Well, I'm sorry. Sounds like you guys are having a hard time."

"Don't be sorry, beautiful," He smiled, "You're not quite old enough to understand. Most married people are always at each other's, uh, _throats_." Jack teased. Sage felt her cheeks get warm. Should she be offended that Jack thought she was immature? She tried not to dwell on it as he stepped to one side.

"So, sweet little Sage," He murmured, gesturing to his apartment, "Why don't you come on in? Make yourself more… _comfortable_."

Sage contemplated turning away and running back to her room; for all she knew, Jack could be a wife-beater, or worse. Instead, she stepped into Jack's apartment, watching his grin get wider as she looked around. For the first time since she'd been home, she sensed something she hadn't felt in a long time – the one thing she could not resist.

Danger.

The docks were deserted this late at night. Or this early in the morning, depending on how you thought about it.

The Scarecrow, however, preferred the night.

"Well, Gentlemen," His voice resonated with power, even from behind a mask. "It seems we have not had the pleasure of doing business before."

"The pleasure is all ours," A man insisted, in a thick Italian accent. "With the bat flying around, there ain't anyone sellin' shit these days! They're too scared! Of a man in a bat costume, aha, can you _believe_ it?"

The group of men surrounding him chortled, all of whom were dressed in matching black hats and suits. Scarecrow chuckled and gestured towards his henchmen, who began unboxing the product.

"And there, fellow comrades, lies the problem." Scarecrow taunted. " _Fear_. The streets of Gotham, once rife with the highest quality of crime, have now dried up. I am here to change that."

"This, uh, this product of yours, Dr. Crane," The boss said, dusting the front of his jacket with the back of his hand, "What exactly is it?"

"Or more importantly, how _much_ is it?" The other mob dealer asked. Scarecrow laughed at their meaningless concerns.

"Does it matter?" He asked, voice rich with mischief. "Like you said, I'm your only option. Your entire operations runs on drugs and women. Without me, half of your operation is destroyed. And you know what that means, Mr. Giovanni?"

The man at the front of the group raised a brow at Scarecrow's taunting tone of voice.

"That means half of your money is _gone_ ," Scarecrow taunted, stepping closer. " _Poof_. Gone into thin air. Faster than a bullet to the head."

"You'll be getting that bullet to the head if this fails, Crane." Giovanni snapped, taking a step towards him. Scarecrow smirked from under his mask. His henchmen raised their guns but Scarecrow waved them off.

"I'm your only hope," Scarecrow said, plainly, "If you don't like what I have to offer, then _leave_."

"Come on, Gio," The other leader interjected, "We gotta go with this guy. There ain't nobody else!"

"I know that, _Tony_ ," Giovanni snapped. Shaking his head, he turned towards the Scarecrow. "If we go through with this, _Doctor_ …can you guarantee it will be supplied across all of Gotham?"

The Scarecrow glanced at his henchmen, who wore devious grins.

"Oh, I can assure you, Mr. Giovanni," Scarecrow grinned. "After this deal, your Red Hood mob will be the biggest drug distributers in Gotham city."

"And our customers?" Giovanni questioned. "They'll be satisfied with your, uh… _product_?"

Scarecrow placed a hand over his ruined blazer jacket, just above his heart.

"I solemnly swear to you, Gentlemen," His voice pierced the air, "I'll have every junkie in Gotham addicted to my toxin before they know what's _hit_ them."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The sound of the door closing behind her sent a shiver down her spine. Sage could feel Jack's looming presence right behind her. Even before he cleared his throat, his very existence was the kind that demanded your full attention. She tried to navigate her bare feet through the chaos of his apartment, trying not to step on anything pointed. Clothes were strewn everywhere, letters scattered the floor, but what surprised Sage the most was the sheer number of books piling up everywhere, the carpet disappearing beneath the hardbacks. What also caught her attention was the book shelf which seemed to have been thrown across the room, explaining the sudden _bang_ she had heard earlier.

"Sorry about the mess, doll, it's been a, uh…interesting night." Jack apologised, dancing his way around the mess and heading towards the kitchen counter. His apartment mirrored the structure of her own but in terms of interior design, it was rougher around the edges than Sage's wet-wiped apartment. Mess just wasn't tolerated in her Aunt's apartment growing up, a lesson that clearly wasn't instilled in Jack.

"It's fine," Sage murmured, looking for somewhere to sit, "I mean, it's not like you prepared for me to come over."

"Wellll," Jack drawled out, slamming two mugs on the counter heavy-handedly, "That's just the kinda guy I am. I don't like making plans all that much, it's, uh, better to do things… impulsive- _ly_."

As the kettle started boiling, Sage slowly pulled out a stool from under the countertop and eased herself onto it. She wondered why Jack always spoke as though he was implying something else, though she could just be reading too much into it. She looked at the books for a moment and tried to imagine Jack reading one. Whenever Sage read something, she'd always brew herbal tea and play some soft music.

Somehow, she just couldn't imagine Jack in that scenario. From the look of the overflowing ash-trays and beer bottles by the couch, he clearly preferred something _stronger_. For a moment, Sage's mind was transported back to her dorm in California. The tobacco, the booze…it rang a little too close to home.

Sage tried not to look at the mess for too long. She turned her attention to Jack, who was going through his cabinets, urgently, until he found what he was looking for.

"So, sweet-cheeks," Jack grinned, holding out two tins of coffee, "decaf or Italian blend?"

She couldn't help but laugh, suddenly, causing Jack to cast her a curious glance.

"Um, sure, either are fine," Sage chuckled. "Sorry it's just… I'm Italian."

She realised how ridiculous it seemed for her to laugh at such a thing, but it was early in the morning and she found the coincidence amusing. Besides, their entire encounter felt utterly ridiculous. Only moments ago, this man had been yelling at his wife and now he was making her… _artisanal_ _coffee_?

"Ah," Jack smiled, "Thought I detected a _touch_ of an accent." He began spooning the coffee into the cups as the kettle settled down.

"Yeah," Sage grimaced, "Living in California, it kinda wore off."

"Well, Gotham has a lot of _Italians_ ," Jack said, smirking to himself, "I'm sure you'll, uh, find yourself."

Sage tried her hardest not to take offence. She knew exactly what he meant by _Italians_.

"Your, uh, Dad's side, or your Mom's?" Jack questioned, curiously.

"Dad's side," Sage said, "My mom grew up in Texas."

"And she moved to _Gotham_?" Jack laughed, as though it was insane for someone to move states. Sage shrugged. "Well, that explains _you_ …"

"What do you mean?" Sage questioned, bluntly, as Jack poured the water.

"You coulda lived in _Hollywood_ for chrissakes," Jack chuckled, "But you and mommy both prefer Gotham to somewhere more… _civilised_? Why is that?"

Sage hadn't thought about that before. Granted, she'd loathed Gotham growing up. Then again, even California, for all its beauty, didn't felt like home either. She pondered over the idea for a moment, unsure of how to answer Jack's question.

"I don't know," Sage replied, "I mean, my mom came here for college. She met my dad and they just kinda…settled down. I don't know why. I lived with my aunt growing up, so…"

Sage felt a little strange talking about her parents. She was telling Jack the truth, partially. Her mother had moved to Gotham and married her father, an Italian, and settled down. But then, once Sage turned seven, her aunt had moved to Gotham to take care of her.

Pam was the only other person who knew the full story and Sage was satisfied with that. She wondered if Jack could tell she was holding back but he simply stirred hot water into the mugs.

"Mhm," Jack hummed, bringing over the coffee, "So, whattabout you, hm? What brings you back to big bad _Gotham_?"

Sage felt a little uncomfortable as he handed her the coffee, though she was thankful the conversation had strayed from her family history. Leaning over the counter, Jack's eyes didn't leave hers for a second. She wondered why he was so interested in her when she hadn't even asked about him.

"I'm doing my masters at Gotham U," Sage said, truthfully, "My aunt moved back to Texas to take care of some family stuff so I'm renting out the apartment."

Jack took a long sip of his coffee and made a show of giving a sigh of contentment.

"And what? You couldn't do a masters in _California_?" Jack asked. Sage swallowed her coffee, nervously. She didn't have to tell him everything – hell she barely _knew_ the guy. She'd probably learned more about him from his screaming wife than she had from this entire conversation. Who was he to interrogate her?

"Why are you so concerned?" Sage asked, voicing her annoyance. "Worried you might be living next to a…a serial killer?"

Jack, taken by surprise, almost choked on his coffee. His laughter boomed through-out the room, making Sage jump.

" _A serial killer_?" Jack laughed. " _You_? No…no, no, no, _no_."

He placed his empty mug down on the table with a thud.

"I just wanna get ta know ya better, _doll-face._ "Jack replied, giving a shrug, "That a crime?"

Sage was silent for a second. She gritted her teeth in irritation. Was he being serious? Did he genuinely just want to know more about her? If Sage had been the same girl she was when she first lived in this building, she would have believed this. She would have been drawn in by Jack immediately, no questions asked, she even might have invited _him_ in for coffee…

But she was not that girl anymore. She was not naïve. She wouldn't let anyone get the best of her, not now. Not after rehab.

Not after the accident.

"I _chose_ to come back here," Sage insisted. "Besides, why did _you_ move here? To the Narrows?"

Jack looked at her, intently.

"My, uh, _other_ _half_ , quit her job," Jack replied, "She thought working as a stripper was a li-ttle too… _stressful_. But she just kept spendin' even though we had nothin' and…we got _evicted_."

"Oh," Sage uttered, at a loss for words, "I'm sorry. And you? What do you do?"

Jack grinned, then shook his head.

" _Now_ whose askin' questions," He chuckled, "Let's just say, I don't make enough money to pay rent anywhere but _here_."

Sage was silent.

"At least… not yet." Jack added, giving her a wink.

"But what is it you do?" Sage pried.

"I'm a, uh, body-guard," Jack drawled out, no longer smiling, "I… guard bodies."

"What bodies?" Sage inquired. "Like, celebrities, or something?" Jack snorted.

"VIPs… _yes_." Jack said. "Celebrities, _nah_. But, I'm afraid, that's about all I can say on the sub- _ject_."

The more he spoke, the more he confirmed just how sketchy Sage already believed him to be. A body-guard… was that code for beating people up? Is that what his wife was screaming about? Was he one of Falcone's henchmen, or whoever was running the mob these days?

"I'm looking for a job actually," Sage added, off-topic, "I mean, I start college next week and the books are expensive. I've tried applying online but… there's nothing."

Jack gave her a thoughtful look.

"That's it, isn't it?" Jack murmured, "That's the big joke. Got people like Bruce Wayne livin' like royal- _ty_ while the rest of us gotta worry if we're overspendin' on _milk_!"

His voice took a darker tone, suddenly, causing Sage to squirm in her seat.

"You'll find something, sweet-cheeks," Jack added, a lot less passionately, "I mean, you're a girl, after all! And a _pretty_ one at that…"

Sage felt her cheeks go slightly warm but she tried not to dwell on it.

"Not like me," Jack added, "Ain't nothin' pretty about _me_ , aha."

He looked down at his empty coffee cup for a moment, his dirty hands clasping it tightly. For a moment, Sage felt entirely empathetic toward the scarred man in front of her. Despite his constant prying and, at times, _unnerving_ characteristics… he was just a person.

"I'm sorry for sounding snappy," Sage said, softly. "I've just had a really hard summer and there's not many people I feel I can talk to about it, yet. I'm not used to other people asking me about…my life."

Slowly, Jack's gaze found hers, his expression urging her to continue.

"I mean, besides my family and _friends_ -" (she hesitated on the word friends, knowing that the plural itself was a lie) "-I haven't been around people in a while. My socialising skills are a little…stunted."

"You've got your _reasons_ for comin' back here," Jack said, understandingly, "You're allowed to have secrets, doll. You might be a little young but you're still an _adult_. And all adults have _secrets_."

As he spoke, he looked Sage up and down. The way his dark eyes ran over her felt as sensual as it did psychotic.

"Pretty _and_ mysterious," Jack beamed, " _I like that_."

His proximity was so close to her that she was paralyzed. There were so many things she wanted to say but she couldn't get herself to talk. _I'm not pretty at all_ , _Jack_. Sage wanted to scream. _You might not see that but…it's true. I'm an ugly person on the inside. And I've done …uglier things._

Sage stopped herself from saying this and, instead, changed the subject.

"So, your wife," Sage began, "Why was she so angry at you?"

Jack's smile faltered slightly.

"You didn't hear that part through the wall?" Jack asked. Sage shook her head. She could try to put two and two together but she wanted to know the truth. As much as she wished he didn't, her new neighbour intrigued her more than anyone she had ever met.

"I heard something about money but…that's not all it is, right?" Sage's voice trailed off. She wondered if she'd overstepped, but tried her hardest not to look nervous.

"I can't tell you that, doll-face." He stated, plainly. "I've, uh, got my own secrets to keep, _you know_?"

Sage nodded, knowing it was stupid to pry further than he had. Jack had a line just like she did. It was no point in trying to cross it tonight.

"But heeeey," Jack drawled out, "Maybe we'll become so, umm, so _close_ someday, that we'll know eve-ry-thing about each other. Hmm?"

"What do you mean?" Sage asked. "You want us to become…close?"

Jack laughed.

"May- _be_ ," He murmured, "Say, why don't we do this…regular- _ly_? I mean, I enjoy your company and…I _think_ you enjoy mine…"

Sage raised a brow as he stepped around the counter, inching towards her.

"Why don't you come over more, hmm?" He said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Let's say…once a week? We can get to know each other _better_."

Sage hadn't realised just how close he'd gotten as she opened her mouth.

"S...Sure." She muttered, knowing any other answer would probably not have satisfied him, "But…your wife…"

"My wife," Jack groaned, rolling his eyes, "You're worried about my _wife_?"

Sage shrugged, feeling uncomfortable.

"You, uh, ya think I'm after a… a _romantic_ thing?!" Jack exclaimed, smiling wide. Sage felt her entire face heat up as he shook with laughter.

"N-No…" She stammered, getting to her feet, "Yes? No. I don't know! What do you want, then?"

Jack ran a hand through his matted blonde curls. He continued to laugh as she gawked at him, entirely confused.

"Don't get me wrong, doll, I'm flattered…tru- _ly_."

As he took a step closer, Sage realised there was nothing but his breath between them. She could feel her heart beating quickly as he licked at his scars.

"What I want, Sage…" He grinned, deviously, "Is to be _friends_."

.

.

.

.

.

 **Thanks for the reviews so far guys, it's really keepin me goin :) I know this chapter didn't have the same multi-narrative as the others but I thought it might be a good opportunity to establish Jack and Sage's early relationship before the plot thickens.**

 **Now, I know there's still a lot of Sage's backstory missing but I promise you we'll get to that soon!**

 **Let me know what you think and have a lovely evening xo**

 **P.S.**

 **I've put a small playlist together for each character bc I'm suuuuper bored as I've been really ill, so let me know if you want me to put it in the next author's note xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"So, did you just forget we agreed to meet early this morning or am I simply _not_ important to you?"

Pam's manicured hands racked along the clothing rails as she gave Sage an inquisitive stare. Sage, who was tiredly eying a marl grey sweater, frowned disapprovingly at her best friend's tone. She hadn't told Pam that she'd been awake since four o'clock in the morning, having slightly dysfunctional heart-to-hearts with her next-door neighbour – who may or may not be an organised _criminal_.

No. Pam did not need to know about that. She didn't need another reason to worry.

"I didn't _forget_ ," Sage insisted, hand hovering near a blue sweater before dragging it along the rail, "I was just tired, okay?"

"How can you be tired? You don't have a job and classes don't start til next week!" Pam exclaimed, giving the girl a playful smile. Sage rolled her eyes, sarcastically. Though the job hunt remained unsuccessfully, the online applications took forever.

"I had a lot of unpacking to do," Sage shrugged, "which, as I recall, you didn't exactly help with."

"I organised your closet by colour code, what more do you want?" Pam asked, nonchalantly. Sage chuckled.

"Well, at least we got a table at Benedicts in time for brunch, their lunch menu _sucks_." Sage commented, the coat hangers screeching along the metal. Pam laughed, plopping herself into one of the luxurious looking chairs occupying the store. Sage wondered how long it took Pam to get ready in the morning or whether her natural elegance was exactly that – _natural_.

"You sound like me," Pam commented. "When did you become such a snob?"

"I am simply what _you_ made me." Sage accused, shaking a sweater in her direction.

In California, Sage managed to get by with a simple spring-summer wardrobe. She'd forgotten the feel of thermals, or a woollen coat. Not to mention, everything was so much brighter in the sun. None of her clothes matched the sullen, city colours of Gotham. If she left her apartment wearing the cocktail-coloured crop tops and white shorts she'd lived in during college, she would stick out like a sore thumb against Gotham's grungy backdrop. Sage didn't want much, but she wanted to fit in. At least for now.

"God, sweaters are so tough," Sage sighed. "I mean, how many do I need? Do I want fine-knit or roll-neck? There's too much choice."

"I know," Pam sighed dramatically. "It really is just _so_ hard having all this choice. All this _freedom_."

"Oh, come on, you know what I mean," Sage replied, "I spent the past three months living in jeans and t-shirts. Before that I basically lived at the beach. I don't even know what I'm looking for!"

Pam approached the clothing rail that Sage had withdrawn from in frustration.

"What size were you last time you bought clothes?" Pam asked, eyeing Sage's figure.

"Um, an eight. Size eight." Sage shrugged. Pam raised a brow.

"That can't be right. You're at least a size four." Pam responded, bluntly. Sage burst out laughing.

"Nice. Thanks Pam, that's sweet of you." Sage said, crossing her arms tightly. Pam froze and approached her friend, slowly. She stared at her for a long time - perhaps the first time she had actually stopped to _look_ at her.

Sage had never been the most glamorous person in the world, but she'd never worn layers upon layers of baggy t-shirts and ripped trousers. Her entire torso was immersed in clothes that gave the illusion of being a certain size, burying the sharpness of her physique.

Pam pinched Sage's waist tightly under her top, before realising there was nothing to pinch.

"Pam, what the fuck?" Sage whispered, impatiently, pulling her t-shirt down. Pam's hand fell away, in shock. The hips that Pam had once envied when they were on the cheerleading team were practically non-existent. She was all straight lines and edges and empty space.

"You're definitely not an eight," Pam replied. "At least, not in American sizes."

"I can't believe you actually just pinched me," Sage exclaimed, cheeks turning red. Pam's eyes narrowed suspiciously. How had she not noticed this when she first _saw_ her?

"All of your clothes are too big for you," Pam accused. "That's why I didn't notice it before."

"Notice what?" Sage asked. "That I've lost a bit weight? Jesus, Pam, I don't have a _problem_ or anything—"

"But you did have a problem, dammit!" Pam almost shouted, exasperated. The few people in the store glanced in their direction and Pam waved away a sales assistant who appeared to be making their way over.

Sage felt her bottom lip tremble as she stared at her friend in utter shock. Of all the places for Pam to implode, did it have to be in a store? Could she not have done this earlier, when they were alone?

"I… don't know what to say to that." Sage replied. Pam closed her eyes for a long time before opening them, trying to think.

"I'm not trying to be mean, Sage," Pam murmured, "I just don't like getting scared."

"What do you have to be scared of?" Sage whispered. Pam threw an angered look in her direction.

"We almost lost you once already," Pam retorted, holding back most of the rage brewing inside of her. Sage stepped closer to her friend and put her hand on hers. She tried not to shake. No-one knew her the way Pam did. She wasn't worryingly thin – if she had been, the doctors would have kept her for a few more weeks, but they hadn't. After all, that wasn't why the put her away.

"Pam," Sage said, softly, "Come on. You know I love to eat. We just had breakfast, didn't we?"

"Brunch," Pam corrected. Sage suppressed a chuckle, knowing now was not the time to lighten the mood.

"I just…all of that _shit_ …" Sage explained, "It fucked up my appetite, you know? But it's coming back to me. It's not a problem for me, Pam. It was a side-effect of something else."

"Yeah. I know." Pam said, through gritted teeth.

"Look," Sage said, trying to keep her voice steady, "I'm _done_ with all that. In a few months, you'll see, I'll be back to normal. That stuff… it affects you physically and mentally, you know?"

"It's not that, Sage," Pam murmured, "I just… never mind."

"What?" Sage pleaded. "Please, just… just say what you need to say." Pam took a deep breath.

"I didn't recognize you," Pam stated, "After the accident… I didn't recognize you."

Sage felt flooded with guilt. She knew this had been difficult for Pam, the only person she didn't want to hurt. Through everything, all the drama, Pam was her number one. Hurting her was the most painful experience Sage had ever been through.

"That person wasn't me, Pam," Sage said, "You have to understand that. I'm back now."

"I know," Pam mumbled, clearing her throat, "I think I can believe that. I just don't want to lose you to anything, or anyone, ever again."

Sage wrapped her arms around her friend and pulled her into a hug.

"I'm not going anywhere, okay?" Sage replied. "I'm back. I'm back for good."

Pam could smell Sage's scented shampoo mingle with her designer perfume. This was all she'd ever wanted – to be reunited with her friend, at last, without having to worry about what might happen next.

"Okay then." Pam nodded, giving her best grin. "How about we find you some clothes that actually fit?"

.

Jack had already knocked three times on Mrs. Myers door as he stood outside, twitching impatiently. The wad of cash tucked into his jacket pocket was heavier than he thought. He grinned to himself, taking pleasure beforehand in what was about to happen.

When the door opened, Jack put on his least terrifying smile. Yet, somehow, Mrs. Myers never commented on Jack's scars. He thought that maybe she was an open-minded woman who didn't ask too many questions. Either that, or she was almost blind.

"Mrs. _Myers_ ," Jack drawled out, "How are you, this fine morning?"

The older woman pushed up her circular glasses and gave Jack a huge smile.

"Oh, Jack!" She said, "So good to see you! How is your wife, what's her name again… Alison? Emily?"

"Jenn-if-er," Jack spelled out, for what must have been the hundredth time, "Well, she prefers Jeannie…"

"Oh, Jessica! Yes, yes, of course, how could I forget?" Mrs. Myers exclaimed. Jack shook his head.

"Can I, uh, come in for a quick sec?" He murmured, voice low. Mrs. Myers smiled, warmly.

"Oh, of course! Do you want anything? Tea? Coffee? Cake? You know, that Heather girl on the ground floor baked some cookies for me earlier, isn't that sweet? I think she works in a bakery, or a café, or…"

Jack shut the door behind him with a groan, knowing this could go one or two ways. Mrs. Myers tended to go off on tangents, which he often found amusing. However, there was only one tangent he was interested in.

Or, rather, one _tenant_.

"I, uh, have this week's rent," Jack grinned, "Two weeks early." Mrs. Myers took a seat at her tiny table and gestured for Jack to sit too. She grinned widely when Jack withdrew a stack of notes from his pocket, placing it neatly onto the table.

"Oh, _Jack_ ," Mrs. Myers murmured, "That's wonderful. You didn't have to do that!" As she reached for the money, she almost knocked over an old tea-cup which Jack, quickly, managed to catch.

Jack wondered how in the hell this woman managed this place.

"It's the _least_ I could do," Jack grinned, "What with the security deposit coming through a little, uh…late." He spoke through gritted teeth, recalling how his wife had spent the deposit on a new handbag.

Mrs. Myers waved her hand in a humble motion.

"Don't you worry, Jack," She said, softly, "I am very grateful for this. One less payment for me to worry about!"

Jack was thoughtful for a moment, wondering how to approach the subject he was truly interested in.

And it wasn't money.

"Oh, that reminds me! If you see Miss. Henley again, could you remind her to send me her bank details? Her card was declined… I think she might have missed off a digit or two…" Mrs. Myers mumbled. Jack's attention was summoned at hearing the name Henley.

"Hen- _ley_?" He asked, curiously. "You mean… Sage?"

"Yes, yes!" Mrs. Myers grinned. "Now, I know I probably shouldn't tell you this… but, well, I saw you two talking in the hall so I thought I'd mention it."

Jack grinned, darkly.

"Well, _of course_. Sage and I are, uh, _friends,_ after all-" Jack drawled out, slowly.

"I just hope she's a decent tenant!" Mrs. Myers said, suddenly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Meaning, uh, what exactly?" Jack questioned, feeling intrigued.

"Well, her Aunt Cara is a wonderful woman," The land-lady smiled, fondly. "But… the same can't be said for her sister! I just hope Sage doesn't cause the kind of problems her mother did…"

Jack was at a loss for words. He didn't care at all that his land-lady, lacking any kind of self-awareness, was basically _slandering_ another resident.

In fact, he wanted to hear everything she had to say.

"Oh, reaaally?" Jack asked, feining a look of shock. "What kind of, uh, _problems_?"

Mrs. Myers bit her bottom lip, hesitantly.

"Oh, I shouldn't!" She murmured, "The real estate people would kill me if I told you! Though it should have been disclosed in your agreement, somewhere…"

Jack leaned in, closely, giving the elderly woman an empathetic look.

"I promise, Angela," Jack humoured her, "I won't tell a single. Living. _Soul_."

Mrs. Myers was silent for a moment before letting out a sigh, as though she'd been wanting to discuss this for centuries.

"Well… _alright then_ ," She exclaimed, "Sage's parents rented that apartment before Cara moved in."

Jack, noticing a plate of cookies on the table, crept his hand towards one and bit into it, slowly.

"Sage's father was an Italian man, de Luca the name was, most likely one those _mobster_ types–" (Jack tried his hardest not to howl at the irony) "—anyway, Sage's mother had an affair with his colleague, Renaldo."

A ghost of a smirk graced Jack's face as his mysterious neighbour's history unravelled before his eyes. He wondered whether this woman had ever kept a secret in her life.

"Well, de Luca came home one day and caught them _together_ ," Mrs. Myers gushed. Jack feigned a look of utter disbelief, urging her to continue.

"…And?" Jack prompted. Mrs. Myers leaned in slowly.

"He shot the man. _In cold_ _blood_. He's serving a life sentence in Blackgate, _to this_ _day_."

 _Oh_ , Jack thought, leaning back, _this was just. Too. Good._

"Then, uh, _what_? What happened nex _t_?" Jack asked, teeth gritted in anticipation.

"Sage's mother…" Mrs. Myers explained, "They sent her to Arkham. Tried to kill herself. She wanted to be with her late _lover_ … Oh, it was all such a tragedy, back then! I'm surprised you never read about it in the papers! _Crime of passion_ , I think the article was called… such a sad time for this place though, let me tell ya…I had barely any tenants for _months_ … except for Cara..."

Jack stared at his land-lady in shock. Was any of this true? Had the woman finally lost it and begun spinning tales based on the crime fiction she hoarded? Then again, the story had such a _weight_ to it. Such _twists_ , such turns…

Jack liked twists.

And he, of all people, knew that bad things happened in Gotham. Even to good people.

"It's no surprise that Sage was arrested for drunk-driving this summer…like father, like daughter, I suppose…" Mrs. Myers murmured, as though she was the wisest woman in the world.

Slowly, a look of enlightenment graced Jack's features.

"But you want to hear what the _worst_ part is?" Mrs. Myers practically whispered.

"Oh, I'd _looove_ to." He murmured, resting a scarred cheek on his hand, his interest piquing.

"They sent Sage to one of those rehab centres," The old lady explained, "And it's only a stone's throw from where they're keeping her _mother_!"

Jack could feel a smile forming across his face. He tried his hardest to stifle the laughter rising in his chest.

"—I thought she'd do great things in California but… she got addicted to all _kinds_ of things—"

 _Bad things happened._

"—I just hope she doesn't have any of those _parties_ while she's here, I can't have any noise complaints! Oh, that reminds me… Jack… could you remind Miss. Henley to send me her bank details? Did I ask you that already?"

Bad things happened in Gotham.

Every. Damn. Day.


End file.
